Ahh, Red Nails Are Back

It was more of a relief than I imagined it would be to get those ucky white nail tips covered over with red nail polish yesterday.  I feel like I've got my own hands back.  Ahhhh.

I took my pal, Lala's advice and bought a "for rent" sign to jam into the front lawn next door.  Maybe that will entice someone to come rent the joint.  Durwood and I are getting a little scared that we're not being contacted by prospective renters.  Where are they???  If it isn't rented soon can we afford to go on vacation in October???  (that's the real fear, you understand)

Our cable TV provider is fighting with the local NBC station(s) and NBC is the network that plays the football games so Durwood called the cable guys yesterday to ask how he's supposed to watch tonight's game and was told he could stream it online.  Well.  That means downloading a lot of programs and stuff that I suspect is meant for a much younger, much faster OS than is on his dinosaur of a Gateway desktop computer.  He/we've been at this since about 9 o'clock last night and I'm not sure we're any nearer to it actually playing than we were then.  I did unearth a pair of rabbit ears that we bought one of the last times the cable guys were fighting with the networks so maybe I can figure out an easy way for him to switch back and forth and take the computer out of the loop.  Bah.

I went out to see about ripening tomatoes and had picked the cherry ones before I remembered about taking their picture so you get a picture of a pocketful of tomatoes.  Durwood's raspberries look sad, like they were fed something that didn't agree with them, but they're gamely making a few berries for him.  I love picking fresh things out of the backyard, I only like the work that goes with growing them, and I absolutely detest weeding (I do the minimum, always).  But, look, tomatoes!

August 9--France, Dress.  Elaine felt like she was being squeezed in a vise.  She remembered strolling through the nearly deserted costume and fashion museum on a back street in Boston but then there was a blank.  She tried to sit up, tried opening her eyes, raised a hand to feel that her eyes were open but the blackness of the place was complete.  When she lifted her arm fabric sighed as if she were wearing silk.  That morning she had put on a sweater and jeans.  Sweaters don't sigh like silk.  When had she changed her clothes?  Her hands were busy exploring around her.  Rough upholstery fabric, firmly stuffed, wood with nailhead trim--a chaise perhaps.  Her ears strained to hear a sound that might give her a clue where she was.  A door opened and a shaft of light dazzled her eyes.  "Oh, you're awake, my sweet.  Good." said a deep voice.

Eesh.  No wonder I couldn't go to sleep once I turned out the light.  I hate nights like that.  I think I'm sleepy but then I toss and turn for hours.  I think I fell asleep for about half an hour, then I was awake for nearly 2 hours, slept a bit, and was awake again for an hour.  Grrr.  And I have to work today.  Curses.   Oh, and speaking of curses, Barbara Mertz, aka Barbara Michaels aka Elizabeth Peters died yesterday.  No more new Amelia Peabody books for us. Boo. *sniff*   I'll talk to you tomorrow.  With any luck I'll be in a better mood.  (probably not, but we can hope, can't we?)
--Barbara